


Of Cabbages & Kings

by masterofnone



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofnone/pseuds/masterofnone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Elena & Bonnie leave their humdrum lives in Mystic Falls to go away to college on the west coast, Bonnie is a fun, fiesty arts major & Elena is working towards becoming a mortician. Damon is a TA who requests Elena be part of his thesis study, the longer she is interviewed by him the more darkness she uncovers about the reasons why he has returned years and years later to re-open his  study of the human psyche. What is he desperately trying to hide, or is he, like Elena trying to solve his own mystery?</p><p>Bonus Stefan is actually the fun brother hijinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Cabbages & Kings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey pals! (and new ppl) I've been working on this piece for quite some time now but the pace has been considerably slower since I usually have to be in a certain mindset for it... that and TRTA was taking over my thoughts and calling out to me far more often. 
> 
> However, I recently just lost my 14 year old cat who for all intents and purposes was my therapy animal and it has made me withdrawn and brokenhearted. So while I am continuing to work on TRTA - I am not feeling myself - and it shows in what comes out. This piece is supposed to be darker, which kind of goes with my morose mood now so I'm going to at least put out the first part. NB: this will be much much shorter a piece. I estimate as little 3 max 5 parts. And regarding Elena's overall narritive tone - it is supposed to be more of a Dr.Manhattan affected kind of tone. Short, sentences, heavy at times.
> 
> ((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpzQkW1AE8g))

It is quiet when Damon begins to speak to the class as Professor Stone begins to exit the room. I stare down at my latest assignment and zone his words out as I look at his note in the margin of my essay.

 

_See me after class._

 

I am filled with nervous excitement, it can't be for anything bad – his desire to speak with me. My latest personal piece for this very unorthodox, elective of psych study has received a grade of 85%

 I would normally beat myself up about that grade but I am way out of my comfort zone in this course. It is a far cry from the soothing, repetitive, and quiet nature of lab work. The discussions we all take part in here delve into experimental, dark places. We are currently on a unit which studies the mind of sociopaths. My paper was the only one written from a point of sympathy.

 I linger at my desk, telling Bonnie that I will catch up with her later. She looks briefly at my paper, then to the front of the class and gives me a knowing, suggestive smirk. “Sure you will.”

 “Hush.” I snap back with a smile all but shooing her away.

 I try to make sure and keep my posture as erect and confident as I can possibly manage while I walk down the inclined walkway of the large classroom.

 “You wanted to see me after class?”

He glances up at me quickly, confused for a second then clearly recalling the note he left me.

 “Ah yes, of course Elena I did in fact.”

 He rushes to get a folder then, and turns his gaze back on me, “I was wondering if you'd be willing to take part in my thesis. It's a progressive form of investigating how society interacts with sociopaths and you'd be able to offer me some unique insights I haven't encountered elsewhere.”

 “Progressive how?” is all I ask for the moment.

 “I would be interviewing you but in the form of therapy sessions.”

 

 

This means I will be meeting with the man I have had a long standing almost secret crush on for the last 5 months.

 Alone.

 In a room.

 While he probes into my mind apparently.

 I can imagine Bonnie's snarky comment in my head, _'that's not all he can probe for you is it?'_

 Incorrigible pervert; my friend.

 

I pretend to think it over, make a show of biting my bottom lip thoughtfully. He impassively takes in this action.

“Why not?” I smile and nod once for good measure, “When do we start?”

 

 

';';';';'

 

“Well that sounds a lot like an opportunity for seduction.” Bonnie says this salaciously before taking a coy bite off the tip of her recently dipped French fry.

 “You think _everything_ is an opportunity for seduction.” I roll my brown eyes and stab at my soba noodle salad with a wry smile.

 “And **you** refuse to admit everything is.”

 We're eating in the lab, there is a cadaver to the left of our chairs, and an empty exam table where our food is laid out on the right. Bonnie has walked all the way from the drama building for our usual Wednesday ritual of lunch indoors. She always brings the eats when we dine indoors and I pay when we go out. I have waited an entire 48 hours to tell her about what I agreed to at the start of the week. She is the only person who knows of my attraction to our TA.

 Neither of us are psych majors, she is in the arts and I am in the sciences. We have very few mutual friends, but could not be closer. We came to college together, to get away from our boring existence back home. Every semester we each choose a shared elective so that we can be guaranteed to have our paths cross with regularity during school.

 Our dorms are in the same building, but we are not room-mates. I have a single and she lives with a vivacious blonde named Caroline.

 “When do you start?” Bonnie asks me this before taking a sip of her lemonade.

 “Tomorrow.”

 “Wear something see through.” She laughs scandalously at my groaning her name out.

 

';';';';'

 

I cannot help but daydream as I walk over in the dusk to Damon's office. He is always warm yet mysterious and pleasantly open with all of us during class time. He is polite and seems to be anything but pushy when interacting with students and professor alike.

 I am unable to stop myself from wondering if he is like most Teacher's Assistants and is a very different person outside of the classroom. He is older than most of the others though. He has returned 2 years after finishing his Doctorate after a dark tragedy from his past caused him to expand on his career in Psychology.

 I have once or twice tried asking other students casually about what happened. The younger ones have no idea and only a handful of the older students avert my gaze and change the subject.

 His office is on the other side of town, he has elected to do his thesis therapy sessions off campus. I have driven my car straight from the lab after closing up for the day. My current experiment is going well, I am in a good mood.

 The door to his office is a glossy black with golden accents, I opt for the door knocker instead of the buzzer.

 

My heart skips ever so slightly at the sight of him on the other side of the door, Damon is dressed differently than we usually see him in his role on campus, His casual yet flatteringly chic manner of dress usually includes a nice fitting v-neck tee and black or grey jeans with boots. Currently he wears a long sleeved button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and and a tie that is untied but still around his neck.

 I have never seen him in trousers, their fit is expensive and his boots are still present only he has traded black for grey.

 “Forgive my appearance, long day.”

 “It's alright, you look great!” I cringe inwardly the second the compliment slips past my lips.

 He gives me a long look that is blank before saying neutrally, “Thank you. This way.”

 We go over to a couple of armchairs that are by a window. There is an accent table that stands below the sill. I see a jacket thrown over the back of one of the chairs with a folder, audio recorder and notepad sitting in the seat. This must be his I think to myself and take the seat opposite, I am nervous, he hasn't spoken and is usually a bit more conversational.

 He takes a few minutes to get things situated, offers me tea and I accept it to keep my hands busy with something. It is also somewhat cold in his office so the mug will be good to warm my hands up. The window we are by overlooks a marina, there is an ice cream shop where a steady flow of customers enter and leave. The lights on the boats and along the jetties look like stars, I quietly tell him that the view is absolutely beautiful.

 He spares a glance out the window and for one second looks like the man from my classes.

 “It is.” Is all he says.

 “Is...everything all right?” I feel bold for inquiring but his change in behaviour is jarring.

 “Of course. What leads you to ask that Elena.” he quickly hits record on the small electronic device.

 I find this strange but don't comment, “You just... seem... different. Like I dunno, something is on your mind. Or sad... closed off.”

 “Well what would you think if I said my role as Teaching Assistant calls for me to make myself more available than I am outside of work?”

 “Aren't we working now?”

 “Yes but here I am not assisting anyone, this is **my** office.”

 “So... what? Who you are in class isn't real?”

 He stares at me evenly considering my phrasing I'd guess. His finger taps the end of his pen twice.

 “Do you think that most people are different versions of themselves in different environments?”

 

“I'm not.” is all I reply.

 I am disappointed by the revelations of our first encounter outside of school.

 

He's not the person I imagined he would be, but after nearly half a year of getting caught up in the mystery of him I did not expect to have more questions.

“I was more consistent when I started this position 2 semesters ago, before your time, the students...they didn't care for it.”

 He admits this to me while looking out the window, his body language carries not an ounce of shame or discomfort in this admission. He is completely indifferent, maybe even a little tired just thinking of it. I realize then that my schoolgirl crush has caused me to overlook hints that were plain to see. What I took as calm, collected presence now seems controlled, even a little cold. His previous smiles and quips have some danger hiding around the edges.

 

I don't know who this person is.

I guess I never really did.

 

“Let's begin Elena.” he flips a few pages.

 

';';';';';'

 

I find Bonnie waiting in my room when I get home.

 “Did you get naked? Hey what's wrong?” I am an open book to my friend at all times.

 My hair which I previously had up in a bun, which is how I almost always wear it at the lab, is down, and messy from my putting my hands in it. My brows are furrowed as I stay trapped inside my mind going over the session.

 I can hear the questions he asked in my mind from the time the door shuts behind me until this very moment.

 

 

_What makes you feel sympathy for someone?_

_Are you and your mother close?_

_How does that make you feel? That she doesn't understand you?_

_Do you think victims deserve their fates?_

_Have you ever wanted to harm innocent persons?_

_Why should alternatives for rehabilitation be explored?_

_What is it like, spending time around the dead?_

_Could you be a killer Elena?_

_Could you love one?_

 

 

“It was intense Bonnie. Too intense.”

We stay up late talking, Bonnie is fascinated by the drastic change in our TA, she says it reminds her of something they did in one of her classes. An interpretive study on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

“How many more sessions do you have?” She asks me.

“I don't know. He didn't say.”

 

';';';';';'

 

Class becomes uncomfortable after we commence our sessions. One day when he is handing back assignments he smiles at me and says good job before releasing the paper. Our eyes meet and I hastily try to search for cracks in the facade. He is hard to read.

On another occasion when he takes over the class for Professor Stone while she sits in on a hearing of some sort he uses me in a demonstration on a particularly twisted case file.

 A woman and inmate become pen pals, she eventually begins to meet with him, lobbies for his release. They are married after he is given an early release, and after she helps him capture and kill a family he kills her in their home when their crimes have been discovered.

When the police interview him afterwards he says he was punishing her for her sins. They ask him what said sins were and he tells them with no remorse.

 

“Among them, loving me.”

 

He uses me to demonstrate how the man kills his wife on their balcony for the police to see. Bonnie's face is the picture of ambivalence, she tells me later she didn't know if the entire scene is hot or terrifying.

 I cannot tell her how my heart races when he holds my wrist and pulls my hand behind my head. That I felt his fingers of his other hand twitch when he pauses in his actions to answer a question, just on my collarbone before he mimes carelessly slitting my throat. That this very act, so disturbing, was done with a touch feather light that causes goosebumps to break out on my skin and my face to feel impossibly hot.

 

 

_Could you be a killer Elena?_

_Could you love one?_

 

 

He thanks me when he is done and doesn't even look at me before giving me papers to hand out on his behalf while he writes on the board.

I cannot focus for the rest of the day and that night when I get home I sit at my computer and begin googling my therapist slash TA. I ignore Bonnie's messages inviting me out to the campus bar and go further and further into my search. He has many published papers that I open in tabs ignoring that I hate seeing such a busy browser.

There are videos on youtube of some guest lectures, even tweets from students – women and men – fawning over his looks and rarely seen smiles. I am embarrassed that I have previously thought of him in this way, but know that I didn't really stop – it just became something else.

I am 8 pages back when I see it, an old news article.

 

_Police confrontation with Mad Hatter ends in bloody shoot out. Only one of 3 latest victims survives._

 

Damon's face is one of a few pictures peppered amongst blocks of Times New Roman font. His hair is longer, messy, his face dirty and bruised. I am in complete shock and disbelief.

 I lick my lips and keep reading.

 

 

> Authorities are still unable to deduce clearly what went on in those last days. One of the victims' autopsies confirmed that she had been deceased for well over a week and was in a sitting position for the duration. The second for less, no more than 2 days. It is still unclear whether Dr. Salvatore was able to stall his own death or the Hatter just wasn't ready to do it yet.

 

 

I don't sleep. Tomorrow is another session.

 

 

';';';';';';

 

I dislike exercises that involve real life examples, and today is exclusively this kind of session. I am exhausted, it is a Saturday and I don't have anywhere to be but home when we are done. My responses are stiff, clipped and sluggish and it proves to be too much for Damon.

 He reaches over and clicks the recorder. “What's wrong?”

 Though his tone is flat, his eyes actually manage to show concern. It surprises me but I say nothing.

 “What do you mean?”

 He chuckles and puts his pen between his teeth, “Are you taking a page out of my book and being evasive?”

 “What do you have to be so evasive about?”

 His eyes slowly take me in as I sit leaned into one arm of the chair, “I guess so.” Is all he says.

 This for reasons unknown irritates me. I bound up suddenly out of my chair and let my hair fall for a few minutes before gathering it again. This time at my nape – a nervous habit.

 I start pacing in the office and still he says nothing, I am about to confess to what I found when suddenly there's a knock on his office door. He walks over cautiously and pulls a curtain aside that is covering one of the windows near the door.

 He does the most surprising thing then, he groans. Heaves an annoyed sigh, he is open for a moment, clearly forgetting that I am there. He pulls at the door to reveal another man, with lighter hair and green eyes.

 “Brother.” They say it at the same time.

 The other man looks behind him and sees me standing in the middle of the office. “Kind of late for a session isn't it Damon?”

 “Thesis. Whadyou want?”

 His brother ignores him and steps around him and takes my hand, “Hi, I'm Stefan. Damon's screw up kid brother.”

 “Elena.” I pull my hand away and decide to busy myself with retying my hair.

 “Elena, I'm afraid that will be it for our session today. Whatever is bothering you will have to wait until next time. I've got to deal with my brother.”

 Stefan smirks and delights in his ability to get under the older man's skin.

 “We can't just throw poor Elena to the wolves! Let's go out for dinner and talk it out I'm starved!”

 “I don't make a habit of having dinner with my patients Stefan.”

 “Ah yes but brother, this is your _thesis_.”

 

';';';';';';';'

 

I text Bonnie midway through dinner with a 911 and our location. Shortly after she “runs into us”, plays the role of buffer and manages to distract Stefan from his intended plan of putting Damon on the spot and prying into my personal life. Bonnie very easily wrangles the younger Salvatore brother within half an hour and even Damon is impressed.

When Stefan asks me if I'm dating anyone she miraculously convinces him to visit the restaurant's supposedly haunted gazebo out back. 

Damon and I sit in silence for a few minutes. The news article floods my mind.

“What's the matter Elena.” I look at him and I badly want to confess but just can't bring myself to say the words.

I only shake my head.

 He leans back in his chair, one of his legs stretched out and his arm thrown across the back and looks away.

 “Fine. Let's talk about something else. Lucky isn't it that Bonnie managed to find us tonight?” My eyes dart up realizing he has seen through my actions but I see a small smile on his face.

 He drains the rest of his beer and then says lowly, “Don't worry, I'd be afraid to be alone with us too.”

 I open my mouth to defend, but I realize he was right – I was afraid. He just doesn't have any idea **why**.

  
And I can't decide which _one_ of my reasons was the scariest.

 

“You know – these sessions will never work if there isn't honesty between us... Or Trust” He drawls it out while – again – not looking at me.

“I guess you're right.” He begins to rise, nods at my statement and pulls a hundred dollar bill out from his wallet – he is not expecting me to speak again.

“Does that mean that you trust me Dr. Salvatore?”

He goes still - completely, looks at me then - sizing me up. Then, he chuckles and slides the bill under his bottle but says nothing.

“I'll work on it.” I rush out before he has a chance to say something else, “And um, maybe you can work on being a little less hypocritical?”

I am usually never, ever this bold, my heart thuds at the thrill of being so brazen. So this is what life is like for Bonnie.

He smiles at me, a genuine one, then finishes off with a little smirk while glancing skyward. “Goodnight Elena, please let my brother know I am waiting out front for him. See you next week.”

 


End file.
